It proved to be a message for Baumberger, and she wrote it down in a spiteful scribble which left it barely legible.
"Betraying professional secrets, but I don't care," she exclaimed, turning swiftly toward him.

"Listen to this: "'How's fishing?
Landed the big one yet?
Ready for fry ?"' She threw it down upon the table with a pettish gesture that was wholly feminine.

"Sounds perfectly innocent, doesn't it?
Too perfectly innocent, if you ask me." She stared out of the window abstractedly, her brows pinched together and her lips pursed with a corner between her teeth, much as she had stared after Baumberger the day before; and when she spoke she seemed to have swung her memory back to him then.
"He came up yesterday--with fish for Pete, he SAID, and of course he really did have some--and sent a wire to Shoshone.

I found it on file when I came back.

That was perfectly innocent, too.